Dirty Past (24 page)
“Tate,” Ella whispers, legs around my waist, arms around my neck, trembling, pulsing, desiring. “Yes.”
I thrust into her in one last hard thrust and she cries out. She screams, tilting her head back, gripping me, shaking, clenching. I cup Ella’s ass and bring her pussy tight against my dick so there isn’t an inch of space between us.
Ella sighs. Gasps. Breathes out slowly.
Ella holds on to me, still. Fuck the grasp of concerts past. Fuck the desperation of weeks past. Fuck everything that wasn’t Ella Dawson and her magnetic pull.
Fuck everything that wasn’t her.
Fuck everything that wasn’t her belief and her pull and her desire. Fuck everything that wasn’t always more than forever. Fuck everything that could never look beyond the dirtiness of my past. Fuck everything that depended on that shit. Fuck everything, every-fuckin’-thing that never saw Ella Dawson waitin’ at the other end.
With my dick buried deep inside her, Ella Dawson consumes me until my last breath. She takes every fucking ounce of me, forcing me to hold her, breathe her in.
“Els,” I whisper into her ear, nipping her neck. “Give me you, darlin’. All of you.”
She does.
She moans my name into my mouth and grasps my hair. Her grip on me tightens, and the speed of my thrusts increase. I need to feel her. Her pussy around my cock. Her breath around mine. She’s Ella fucking Dawson but she belongs to Tate fucking Burke, and she’s gonna know it.
“Tate,” she whispers into my neck.
My arms circle her tightly. Oh so fucking tightly. So. Fucking. Tightly. “Ella, darlin’.” Her fingertips, her breaths, they’re scarily intense. “Ella,” I whisper into her ear. “Darlin’. I love you. So much. So goddamn fuckin’ much.”
She squeezes me. Tighter than I ever thought she could. “I love you, Tate. I love you.”
Ella
“Milaaaa,” I sing. “What did Mama say about Doc?”
Mila stares at the TV, still blaring out
Doc McStuffins
, the tiny two-year-old’s latest obsession. “Ah, one show afore nap?”
“One show, that’s right,” I say. “But . . .” I swoop her into my arms and drop back onto my bed, to her insane giggles. “Shhh. We can watch another
Doc
.”
Mila claps her hand over her mouth, and I slide up the bed to the head of it.
“Nachos,” Tate mutters.
“You’re early,” I retort. “We’ve got a date with Stuffy and Doc, right, Mi?”
“Yeah, El!” Mila turns to look at Tate. “My lub El. My lub Stuffy and Doc. And Elmo. And Peppa.”
I smile at Tate over the top of Mila’s head. “I think Stuffy and Doc and Elmo and Peppa love naptime,” I say, getting up to fill her milk sippy cup. When it’s full, I screw the lid on and climb back onto the bed. I dutifully lie through twenty minutes of mind-numbing
Doc McStuffins
. “Now,” I whisper, lying Mila down in her crib. “You be a good girl for Uncle Kye, okay? Dadda will come get you this afternoon. And, if you be good, I’ll bring you back a cupcake.”
Mila covers her mouth with her hands.
“Got it, Mi?”
“Got it, El,” Mila agrees.
I reach into her crib and press the button to start her lullaby. “See you later, baby girl?”
“Anight, El.”
“Later,” I whisper, stepping out of the room. I smile at the closed door and fall almost instantly into the main room.
“Never havin’ kids,” Tate mutters, his hand over his eyes. “Exhaustin’ little shits.”
I laugh and curl into him. “I hear you.”
“I mean it, Els, never.” His teasing tone isn’t lost on me. “You ever think about them . . . before?”
“Well, yeah. Stopped it pretty quick, though.” I chew the inside of my lip.
“What about now?”
“As long as they’re Ellas and not Tates.”
He laughs into my hair. “I’m not sure you get a choice there, darlin’.”
“Shit,” I mutter. “But, uh, I appreciate the forward planning, but can we
not
talk about kids? That’s kinda serious stuff, and we already have to meet the lawyer in twenty minutes. And I already have four guys to look after.”
“Hey!” Tate squeezes me, laughing.
H
is fingers tighten around mine.
“So, to cut a long story short.” Mr. Lee leans forward on his desk and removes his glasses. “His lawyer isn’t as good as I am, and he’s afraid to stand in court because he’ll lose.”
“Take him anyway,” Tate growls.
I rest my hand on his chest and look at Mr. Lee. “Can you draw up some kind of agreement similar to a restraining order that we can settle without going to court?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Els.” Tate’s voice vibrates through me.
“I’ll drop the charges if he agrees to never contact either of us,” I say quickly before Tate can continue.
“Els!” he snaps. “Are you serious?”
I meet his eyes. “I have four fully grown men to run around after and organize. I don’t have the time or inclination to drag my ex’s ass through the judicial system.”
“The decision is yours, Miss Dawson,” Mr. Lee adds.
“Do it,” I demand. “It’s enough for me.”
“S
houlda pressed charges,” Tate grumbles.
“Oh, stop it.” I knock our clasped hands into his side. “It’s my choice, okay? And my choice is to never see him again.”
Tate grunts. “S’pose.”
“Oh, you big baby.” I pat his cheek and walk into the cupcake store. I buy a box, making sure one is pink with a butterfly topper for Mila.
He grunts again when we exit the store. “Should be in fuckin’ prison.”
“Shut up!” I bat his chest. “You can tuck your Fred Flintstone away now, Mr. Caveman. I made the choice, so suck it up or complain inside your head.”
I duck into the waiting car, and he slides in next to me. He stays quiet the whole drive back to the hotel, despite me flicking my eyes to him several times. When we arrive, he gets out, still silent, and takes the cupcakes from me.
He opens the box and grabs one in the middle of the lobby, then sinks his teeth into it. Some frosting sticks to his nose, and I giggle.
“What are you doing?”
“Complainin’ in my head and soothing my annoyance with cupcakes. Ain’t that what you chicks do?”
“Is it working?”
“Mmph.” He shrugs. “Not really. Damn good cupcake, though.”
I laugh and curve my hand around his bicep. I rest my head against his arm. “Don’t be dumb,” I say through my giggles. “It’s for the best this way. I don’t have to think about him, ever.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
“Well, it’s suddenly lookin’ a lot fuckin’ better than it was five minutes ago.” He shoves the cupcake at me and covers my nose and mouth in frosting as we enter the restaurant.
“Tate!”
He laughs and moves away from me quickly.
“I cannot believe you just did that!”
Wide-eyed, he grins.
“Asshole!”
“Dollar!” Mila yells. “Ooooooh cupcake!”
She ignores me and my bad word and runs to Tate, yelling about a cupcake. I grab a napkin from the holder in the restaurant and wipe the yellow stickiness from my face as he hands her a cupcake. She sits on a chair and gets sucked in, and when Sofie walks up, Tate gets a slap on the arm, despite it being my promise.
I grin when he comes to me and traps me against the bar. “You have some . . .” I circle my finger at his face.
“Some what?”
I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss the tip of his nose. “Never mind.”
Tate
Two weeks and it’s perfect.
Two weeks of secret practices, sneaking around, and tensions running high, but it’s perfect.
“Just sit down.” I laugh, kissing Ella’s forehead and pushing her onto a chair.
“But why?”
“Can’t you just do it?”
“No!” She pouts. “You all have that look. Like something is going on.”
Sofie grins.
“Sof! What’s going on?”
Sofie giggles and sits next to her. “Just . . . yeah.”
“I don’t like this,” Ella mutters.
“Give it a minute,” Sofie replies. We let her in on the secret after she heard us playing it. Or rather she forced her damn way in to the secret.
“Ready?” Aidan says, sitting at the drums.
“Ready,” Kye nods.
“Ready,” Conner states.
“Ready.” I smirk at Ella. She narrows her eyes as we hit the first notes of the song.
She stares at me. I look back at her, smiling knowingly. Mila swings her legs on the chair next to my girl, her little head bobbing along to the beat.
The lyrics fall from my lips, and my gaze stays pinned on hers. Her eyes widen and fill, and she lifts her hand to her mouth.
You’re not broken, baby, you ain’t shattered,
Maybe a little cracked, but darlin’,
I can fix you if you let me.
Let me soothe the sting, let me kiss your scars,
Let me wipe your tears and dry your cheeks,
I’ll hold you tight and love you deep.
I smile as I sing, strumming on the guitar.
You’re not broken, baby, just a little bent,
Come in to me tonight,
Breathe me in, give me you,
Let me soothe the sting, let me kiss your scars,
Darlin’, let me kiss your scars,
Let me hold you tight and kiss your scars.
I strum the last note and my lips twitch to the side. “What do you think?” I ask Ella. “It’s yours.”
Her eyes flick between all four of us, filling with tears. “You wrote me a song?”
“Wrote it, played it, sang it.” I shrug a shoulder. “Not bad, right?”
She laughs and runs at me. I put my guitar to the side and catch her on my lap. She hugs me tightly, her face pressed into my neck. Her lips brush where my pulse is throbbing
,
and I smile, breathing in deeply.
“I love it,” she whispers with a sniff. “I love
you.
”
“I love you, too, darlin’.” I kiss her temple.
She laughs and sits up, wiping at her eyes. “Thank you.”
“I’d say ‘anytime,’ but it’s a lot of fuckin’ effort. Especially when you gotta keep it secret from your assistant.” I grin.
“You did a great job.” She giggles. “I had no idea.”
“I know.”
“Hey, Con, why don’t you write me songs anymore?” Sofie demands.
“Give me a pen, princess, and I’ll get right to it,” he answers immediately. “Anyone got any paper? I’m losin’ my best-boyfriend title to this asshole.”
Aidan snorts. “Y’all can keep it. I ain’t writin’ songs for a girl.”
Ella smiles widely, and pulls her eyes from me to him. “You say that now, Ads.”
“I’m sayin’ it for a long damn time,” he argues.
“Yeah, you never know,” Sof agrees. “This love thing is kind of crazy.”
“Ain’t happenin’,” Ads protests.
Ella’s smile just widens, and she tilts her head to one side. “You’re next, Ads.”
He stares at her stonily. “Fuck off.”
A smirk tugs at my lips. “Bro, it happened to me.” I catch Ella’s eye, and she smiles softly, the smile I love that lights up her eyes. “It’s gonna happen to you, and Ads? When it happens, man, it happens.”
Ads looks at Ella. “What did you do with my brother?”
She laughs and threads her fingers through my hair. “I didn’t do a thing. He grew from a silly little boy”—I tickle her side—“into a man.” She kisses my cheek. “My man.”
About the Author
Emma Hart
is the
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author of sexy new adult romance novels, including the Call series and the Game series. By day, she dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies—usually wine—and writes books. Learn more at
EmmaHart.org
and
Facebook.com/EmmaHartBooks
.
FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR:
authors.simonandschuster.com/Emma-Hart
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Also by
New York Times
bestselling author Emma Hart
THE BURKE BROTHERS SERIES
Dirty Secret
THE BY HIS GAME SERIES
Blindsided
Sidelined
Intercepted
THE MEMORIES SERIES
Never Forget
(includes
Holding On
1.5)
Always Remember
THE CALL SERIES
Late Call
Final Call
His Call
THE GAME SERIES
The Love Game
Playing for Keeps
The Right Moves
Worth the Risk
THE WILD SERIES
Wild Attraction
Wild Temptation
Wild Addiction
